


The Boundary Lines

by Ethereal_Wishes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 17:30:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19182466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Wishes/pseuds/Ethereal_Wishes
Summary: Belle is a Queen, in love with her childhood friend, Rowan.  They must keep their romance clandestine because royalty and peasant unions are forbidden.  Because of this, Belle never plans to marry, until a tyrant hungry king storms into her realm, demanding her hand in marriage or it’ll be her head to pay.





	1. Chapter 1

The Boundary Lines: Part One

A/AN: Yeah it's been awhile Rumbelle fandom. I thought it would be easy to leave these two behind, as I've been working on personal projects, but it isn't. I'll slowly but surely be finishing most of my incomplete Rumbelle fics, but I don't anticipate participating in any other fandom challenges. This just happens to be something random which popped in my head.

Queen Belle of Avonlea stirred from her slumber, reaching for the snoozing body next to her. She sighed pleasantly when her fingers made contact with his soft, mussed locks. She cherished these few serene moments of her day, which were all she would be allotted. She'd never meant to fall for anyone below her station, but Rowan Gold had been her childhood comrade. They'd grown up together, playing hide-and-go-seek in the empty corridors throughout the castle. His mother had been a kitchen servant, and his father had been banished from the castle for his drunken outbursts – later hanged for thievery.

Since her mother had died from consumption when she was seven, Belle had been a lonely princess with only her books to offer her companionship. Rowan had been a skittish, little boy, that spent most of his time hiding from his own shadow. They'd mutually bonded one evening when he'd approached, Belle, crying on the palace steps. He'd offered the melancholy princess an apple he'd stolen from the kitchens, and from that day onward, they'd been inseparable.

They'd never crossed the boundary of friendship until Belle's sixteenth birthday ball. Vying suitors from near and far had come seeking the beautiful princess's hand in marriage. Belle hadn't been keen on any prospects her father had chosen for her as a future husband. She'd managed to slip out early, offer a few coppers to a peasant woman in exchange for some clothes, and saddle her horse for the closest village. She'd planned to secure passage on a ship and get herself as far from Avonlea and her power hungry father as possible. No man would decide Belle's fate for her, of that she was certain.

Rowan – her constant shadow – had followed her, of course. He'd reasoned with her into going back, reminding her it was her duty and that her people needed their future Queen. Belle had eventually relented, but not before stealing a kiss from her best friend, right there in the middle of the forest. She didn't want her first kiss to be with some staunchly prince, and Rowan was a safe choice – except he wasn't. The moment her lips brushed ever so gently against his, the world tilted on its axis, igniting a flame within their souls which would never cease to burn.

Innocent kisses shared behind closed doors and darkened corridors turned into midnight rendezvous. A princess's virtue was her bargaining chip for strong alliances and a vast disposal of armies. A union between herself and the kitchen servant's son was off the table. Rowan understood this, and no matter how much, Belle begged him to take her virginity, he wouldn't. It didn't stop them from going as far as they could without crossing any lines, though. In her mind, Rowan was already her husband, despite her father and his royal council never recognizing their union as official.

Her hopes for any kind of life with Rowan were dashed when Gaston – King of the Frontlands, rode in on his noble steed. He possessed more lands and titles than any other royal in the realm. Conquering lands was his expertise, and he held no qualms about shedding innocent blood. He'd offered Avonlea an alternative solution – a crown in exchange for peace. Belle knew she had no choice but to oblige or her entire kingdom would fall into the tyrant's clutches. Begrudgingly, she'd wed him, but their marriage wasn't a typical royal marriage, which demanded heirs. King Gaston had never showed any interest in her outside of her crown. Their marriage was sexless, and when Belle had questioned him about it, he'd scoffed and ordered her to find herself a lover because he wasn't interested in providing her with a child or fulfilling any physical need she had. She'd learned Gaston had a wife before her, which had died in childbirth. He had seven sons that were currently being educated at prestigious schools in faraway lands. She was only meant to enhance his appearance at royal gatherings because her beauty was unrivaled, and it fed his ego. A powerful king needed a beautiful queen at his side, he'd told her.

This freed Belle and Rowan to finally be together, except they weren't allowed to show any affection in public or be seen together outside of her royal chambers. Their romance had to remain clandestine, or Gaston would obliterate it. She'd hoped Rowan would be fine with their arrangement, though she felt selfish for keeping him hidden. She felt like she had him on a short leash, and though her lover had reminded her he didn't need a formal ceremony to call her his wife, she knew he was still heartbroken. They would never be able to have a normal marriage because society and her bloodline forbade it.

Belle pushed back her melancholy musings, observing Rowan open his eyes. When he spotted her, he grinned lazily, reaching for her wrist. He scooted closer, kissing the underside of it. "Too bad we can't laze around in bed all day," he mumbled drowsily, pulling her against him. Delightful shudders rippled through her as he pressed a kiss against her clavicle.

"Mhm, but we do have a few hours before I need to be at court. We have time for a few pleasurable escapades," she hummed, feeling his hardened length pressing pleasantly against her abdomen. Blazing fires of passion roared in her belly as their bodies joined together. The look and depth of love in his eyes every single time they connected, pushed Belle over the edge. Rowan deserved more than a few fleeting nights of passion. He deserved a true home and a family he could call his own. Rowan had gone to work in the kitchens when he was old enough, and she'd made him her personal manservant once Gaston had secured the throne. There were plenty of decent women at court she could have arranged a marriage for him with; he couldn't refuse her if she ordered him to be sent away. However, she knew no matter who they wed, they would always fall back into each other's arms.

Rowan gently cupped her face in his hands, kissing her breathlessly, upon making his release. Her own body trembled with ecstasy, cherishing the feeling of his white, hot seed filling her. He rolled over, and they laid side by side, reveling in the afterglow of their lovemaking. He glanced over at her, his sable eyes filled with so much adoration, she could literally weep. She leaned in closer to him, tangling her bare legs around his. "My true heart's king, how I wish I could give you more."

"I'm exactly where I want to be," he reassured her, caressing her cheek reverently.

Belle held his hand there for a few fleeting seconds, savoring what remained of their time together. Gaston had a monumental feast planned for later that evening. All seven of his sons would be arriving soon, and it was the first time she'd be meeting them. Gaston had warned her to keep her manservant scarce while they were visiting, and Belle had arranged for Rowan to have a week away at her summer palace, but he'd insisted on staying close by, opting to help prepare the food for the feast. He'd remain in the servant's quarters for the duration of Gaston's sons' visit.

"For seven long nights, I'll be denied your precious body heat," she lamented, throwing her arm over her face dramatically.

Rowan snickered, rolling over on top of her, pinning her wrists at her sides. Belle's irises darkened with lust as he cast her a devilish grin. The trust they'd built between each other throughout the years was irreplaceable, and Rowan knew exactly what made her tick. He'd spent another half-hour ravishing her before her ladies came to fetch her for a morning bath. Rowan was long gone before they ever knocked at her door. Belle instantly missed his presence, glancing at the empty space in her bed. She clamored out of bed, uncorking the vial resting on her bedside table – swirling with blue liquid. She opened her mouth, swallowing the unpleasant concoction, while trying not to gag. The serum was the only reason her arrangement with Rowan was allowed to continue. It was meant to keep her from conceiving, for if she ever became pregnant, Gaston would send Rowan away in a heartbeat.

Belle's morning routines had passed by swiftly, and she was bathed and dressed long before noon. She'd spent her free time in the library, catching up on a book she'd neglected. Gaston rarely consulted her on political affairs, so she found she had a lot of free time. He'd often reminded her that she was meant to be seen and not heard. Defying him would have meant a public flogging, and she wasn't about to risk Rowan's safety. As cruel and callous as Gaston was, he kept her people from starving and allowed her to live her life without interference. She felt more like a domesticated queen than a true leader. Standing up to Gaston was a futile task because his empire was vast. Remaining compliantly by his side was much easier than inciting a rebellion.

They'd been wed for ten long years, and though it wasn't a true marriage, it was convenient. Being his ornament was a role she played well, though her heart told her she was a coward. She should be ruling her country, not Gaston. These were her people, and he'd stolen them from her, even her choice to marry.

Her Father had hanged for his defiance, and she would have as well, but her beauty and compliance had spared her. Give up your crown. Make me King. Be my obedient little wife, and I'll spare your head. She was a lamb in the lion's den, but she was surviving. She'd convinced herself that was what mattered most: surviving.

In her heart, she'd always been married to Rowan. They'd even went as far as having a private ceremony with a local parishioner, when Gaston was away on business. Belle had paid the priest handsomely for his services, and her 'true' husband had gifted her with a simple silver band, crafted by one of the village blacksmith's. Belle wore it only when her and Rowan were together. Otherwise, her left ring finger sported Gaston's gaudy seven karat sapphire wedding band. It was flashy and cumbersome, but he'd insisted she wear it at all times because it brought out the azure in her irises. Today she wore it because she knew Gaston would want all of his guests to see it and realize she belonged solely to him. She was just another treasure in his ever-growing collection of trinkets.

Belle was pulled from her musings when she heard a steady knock at the door. "You may enter," she supplied, expecting one of her ladies. She nearly dropped her tome, realizing it was Gaston. He never came to the library. She immediately rose, curtsying properly. "Your Majesty," she parroted as she'd been taught.

"My Queen," he remarked gently, arresting her attention. Gaston always spoke in a booming, authoritative voice. This was quite unusual, especially for him. His tone made her feel queasy and unsettled, as if he were going to request something difficult from her. He padded across the plush carpet, halting in front of her. Gently, he took her hands in his, squeezing them softly.

"Belle, I know we've had our differences in the past, and you've been a good wife to me, too good actually. I think it's time I start being a better husband. I didn't invite my sons here, merely to introduce them. I'm dividing up my estate because I'm dying." He dropped the ball, making her insides tremble.

Belle swallowed hard. "I'm so sorry, Gaston, really I am." And she sincerely meant that. But what he said next tilted her entire world on its axis.

He nodded, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "Which is why I believe it cruel of me to leave you without an heir. You'll need someone to carry on the royal lineage."

Belle knew this could very well be a test of loyalty, and if she wavered at all, he could have her head for it. "Yes, Your Majesty," she remarked obediently.

"You'll sleep in my chamber tonight then," he returned, dusting his fingers down her jawline. He'd came in like a whirlwind and left just as quickly, leaving Belle to her musings. She managed to steady herself against a bookcase, but she couldn't stop the tears. Tonight she would perform her wifely duties, and the thought of her brutish husband laying a hand on her made her writhe with repulsion. All of the loathing she'd harbored towards him came bubbling to the surface. She knew this was just another show of power, and she was going to make him pay for it.


	2. Chapter 2

The Boundary Lines: Part Two

Belle had sat obediently at her husband's side during the banquet, though inwardly she was seething. She'd curtsied and had her wrist kissed by more nobles than she cared to count. Only four of Gaston's son's had attended the celebration. The others had a complicated relationship with their father, and she secretly wondered what each one entailed. Gaston had drank copious amounts of ale during the feast, leaving him inhibited. Tired of her arrogant husband's pigheadedness, she'd encouraged him to have his fill. Eventually he'd collapsed in the middle of the great hall, his hands lewdly exploring an equally intoxicated countess's bosom. Belle had slipped out for the evening, too tired to tidy up the King's mess. She'd briefly spoken with each of his four sons: Barron, Marlen, Linden, and Sebastian.

They were all polite, and seemed as unequally impressed as her with their father's crude behavior. At least she wouldn't have to deal with his advances tonight. She slipped out of her uncomfortable glass slippers – the ones Gaston insisted she wear for the evening, despite being hidden by her dress. Belle's ladies came to attend to her and ready her for bed. She glanced in the mirror, observing Rue brush out her thick tresses – an eleven year old chamber maid's daughter.

"Rue," Belle spoke her name gently, catching the young girl off guard.

"Yes, your majesty," the girl stammered, standing at full attention.

"Rue, do you know of a servant named Rowan?" Belle probed, opening her drawer and pulling out a red velvet satchel.

"Yes, he's currently down in the kitchens I believe," she remarked timidly.

"Excellent, will you please go and fetch him for me and tell him the queen demands an audience with him at once?" Belle requested, plucking two gold coins from the satchel and depositing them in Rue's hand. The child's eyes grew as big as saucers. A wide grin spread across her face, and she carefully tucked her treasure in her apron pocket.

"Yes, at once, Your Majesty!" Rue bowed properly before scurrying away.

Not even ten minutes had passed when she heard the series of familiar knocks at her door. She hurriedly padded towards it, wrenching it open. She pulled her lover inside, hastily shutting the door and latching it.

"What's this all about? I thought we weren't allowed to see each other until after the festivities had commenced," Rowan remarked. Flour stained his brown trousers, and his white tunic was left un-tucked. His hair was in a disarray, falling into his eyes. He kept pushing it back, but it would continue to fall haphazardly in his face despite his futile attempts to tame it. She could feel her knickers dampening at the sight of him, but she chose to ignore her arousal. They had other problems to contend with.

She grabbed his hand, leading him to sit on the chaise facing the balcony. She rummaged through a trunk under her bed, presenting him a clean pair of garments. "So you called me up here just so I could change my clothes?" He mused, hurriedly undressing.

Belle bit her lower lip until it turned a deep crimson, nearly drawing blood. "Gaston wishes for me to conceive an heir for him." The words turned sour in her stomach. Rowan gazed at her as if she'd grown another head.

"But he made it plainly clear that he didn't want to have a child with you!" He countered furiously.

Belle nodded somberly, reaching for his hand. "I know, and I've decided there's a way around all of this. Tonight Gaston became extremely intoxicated. He planned for us to sleep together, and I aim to make him believe just that."

"But how do you plan to fake a pregnancy!?" Rowan interjected.

"I'm not, I'll become pregnant, but it won't be his child," she remarked, blue eyes boring into brown.

Rowan shook his head. "Belle, you know no good is bound to come from this."

"It will because I plan to dispose of him before the duration of the pregnancy. And then I'll be queen in my own right. I'll change the law and make you king consort," she returned, opening her drawer and fishing out an ethereal purple liquid.

"What's that you have?" he queried, eying the liquid suspiciously.

"It's a fertility potion, I stole it from the apothecary. I knew he'd ordered to have one made because he expected me to lay with him tonight. It'll ensure I become pregnant after one round of intercourse," she supplied, uncorking the vial and placing it to her lips. Rowan seized her right wrist before she took a drink.

"But all magic comes with a price, and what if none of this pans out like we expect!?" he remarked hesitantly.

"It will," she reassured him, throwing back the serum. "I'm tired of others being in charge of my fate. It's time I take my life into my own hands and become the queen I was always destined to be. The question is, will you still be standing by my side when I retrieve my power from that vile usurper?"

Her query hung in the air for several seconds before Rowan bowed at her feet. He kissed the tops of her heels, moving to her ankle and up her calf. Eventually he hoisted her into his arms, depositing her gently onto the bed. That night, they languidly explored each other's bodies as if it were the first and last time they would ever be together. He gently moved within her, neither of them desiring a frenzied pace, both aware of what this night entailed. It was a sweet rush of heat and ecstasy throughout their bodies, leaving them both boneless and breathless as he crumpled on top of her, filling her with his release.

Their foreheads touched briefly, and Belle seared his lips in a fervent kiss. The temptation to fall asleep in each other's arms was strong, but Belle needed to enact the rest of her plan before the night had ended. Dread clenched her gut as her and Rowan parted ways for the evening.

She made her way to Gaston's chamber. She could hear him snoring obnoxiously on the opposite side of the door. His guards were nowhere in sight, making this way too easy as she slipped into his chambers, undetected. She crawled into bed with him, cringing as she spooned herself against his backside. It was just for one night, she convinced herself. A dirk was fastened underneath her chemise if he tried anything rash. She rested her hand on it, feeling the sudden urge to drive it through his skull. She swallowed back the urge to murder him in cold blood. However the drive to end his pathetic existence consumed her. She didn't want to wake up next to this brute, and make him believe anything had transpired between them. Her body and her soul belonged to Rowan, and no other man would have her.

Belle lifted the blade to his neck, burying it deep in his throat. He instantaneously opened his eyes, gagging. She had already rolled out of bed. He coughed weakly, wheezing. He instinctively clenched his hand over his throat as if he were able to stop the bleeding. Belle faced him, smiling triumphantly, holding the dagger which dripped with his blood in the air. She wanted his last sight to be his traitorous wife standing before him. She yearned for him to know it was her which had bested him. She'd expected him to fall to the floor, dead in a heap.

Instead he began cackling manically, the gaping wound in his throat closing up. He grinned cynically, his pale skin morphing into a sickly gray. His hair twirled at the ends, and his usual hard brown eyes turned amber. The creature bared its ruined teeth at her, circling her dangerously.

A scream ripped through Belle's throat, however nothing but haunted silence passed through her lips. Her ligaments were frozen, and she was unable to will them to move. The demon studied her, as if it were a predator and she was about to become its prey.

"All of the pieces have finally fallen into place. As I expected, you defied your dimwitted husband and even tried to kill him. All of that was me by the way." The creature giggled impishly, flourishing his hand dramatically.

"Who are you!?" Belle demanded, finding her voice.

"Why I'm the Dark One, dearie. And I owe you a bit of gratitude. That glamor was really beginning to wear on my nerves," he replied.

"Wait, glamor!? You were posing as Gaston the entire time!? Where's the real Gaston then!?" She interrogated.

The Dark One twiddled his thumbs. "I disposed of him on his last business trip. He's down at the bottom of the deep blue sea." The entity pointed his talon downward, startling the queen.

"That was nearly six months ago, which means you've been posing as him this entire time!? And what do you want with me!?" She inquired, her stomach roiling with bile as she awaited his dreaded answer.

"Well you've already darkened your heart by attempting to murder your husband. What I desire needs a bit more time to incubate." The creature insinuated, glancing at her flattened abdomen.

"No! Why would you want my child!?" Belle demanded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Because he was conceived out of the most powerful magic of all – Twu Luv," he snickered.

"Wait, what did you say!?" she stammered.

The Dark One rolled his eyes impatiently. "The beautiful queen and her pauper prince have a romance which defies the ages. You both share true love, the most powerful magic of all. It can break any curse, and I aim to make your son my next successor. I'll need a new host soon, and his body will be powerful enough to withstand my soul crushing power for thousands of years, perhaps forever. I cannot access my full abilities in my current host. Don't worry, I won't come for him until his eighteenth birthday. It will give you and your pathetic pauper enough time to be blissfully happy until I return. Now, go to sleep, and you'll forget about this little encounter in the morning," he supplied, waving his hand, causing her to crumple to the ground. She fought to stay awake but her limbs were too heavy. The image of the beast in front of her faded to black.

When she awoke the following morning, she was back in her chamber. She groaned, her head pounding furiously. She buried her head back into her pillow, awakened by a bloodcurdling scream which roused the entire castle.

"The King is dead! The King is dead!" Someone shrieked outside of her door, feet pounding against the flagstone.

Before she had time to react, she was being pulled from her bed by her ladies and dressed hurriedly. She felt like death, and the events of the prior night made her brain feel like mush. She'd been escorted to her husband's royal councils’ meeting chambers. A sandy blond haired man - dubbed David - she believed, spoke for the committee.

"Your Majesty, I'm afraid the King is deceased. The local coroner believes the cause of death was from drinking too much," David spoke gently.

Belle nodded, as if this were all just a fever dream or huge misunderstanding. "So, what does that entail?"

"It means you'll be ruling in his place, as Queen of Avonlea," David said.

Belle's head felt heavy – black spots dotting her vision. She slumped in her chair, the last words she heard were, "Someone fetch the royal physician!"

Naturally, everyone believed Belle's fainting spell was caused by her immense grief over losing the king. It was the current rumor flitting about the castle. If that were true, Rowan wouldn't have currently been occupying her bed. And he certainly wouldn't have been making her writhe with pleasure for the third time that morning. He rolled off of her, catching his breath.

"Your current status of widowhood has certainly put you in a chipper mood," he jested.

She swatted him playfully. "I've been waiting to regain my throne for ten long years, and soon you'll be my king consort – ruling at my side as you always should have. And when our son-" She paused, the memory falling away before she could string it together.

"Wait, a boy!? How do you know it'll be a boy?" Rowan quizzed.

Belle shrugged. "I don't, just strong intuition I suppose," she added, losing her train of thought. It was as if she were forgetting something vital, a piece of the puzzle she'd misplaced.

"Right, well, I'll certainly adore any children you bear for me," he beamed proudly, kissing her cheek softly. Belle half-smiled, snuggling against him. She fell into a deep slumber, dreaming of a boy with Rowan's eyes.

A/AN: Plot twist... -Laughs Manically-


End file.
